Sunday, August 28, 2005

SAN ONOFRE CALIFORNIA

We have come far south.Beyond here, the oldest womenshelling limas into black shawls.Portillo scratching his nameon the walls, the slender ribbonsof piss, children patting the mud.If we go on, we might stopin the street in the very placewhere someone disappearedand the words Come with us! we mighthear them. If that happened, we wouldlead our lives with our handstied together. That is why we feelit is enough to listento the wind jostling lemons,to dogs ticking across the terraces,knowing that while birds and warmer weatherare forever moving north,the cries of those who vanishmight take years to get here.